


Megaphone To My Chest

by MatchaMochi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Break Up and Make Up, Feelings, M/M, Piano Sex, awkward bitter exes, everybody swears everybody swears too much and it started with a whisperrr, i actually am not an expert in music sorry ill try my best, maestro! Victor, mochi dicks, parodies of band names, rockstar! yuuri, somewhere in the middle this turned into crack, sorry - Freeform, this was done on impulse, warning for editing mistakes, yuri will get them together or he will murder someone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-11-28 12:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/pseuds/MatchaMochi
Summary: -Following the recent breakup with Victor Nikiforov, well renowned face of the classical world of music, Katsuki had been declining interviews and had even refused to sing on stage for the music festival in Chicago. The usual updates on twitter has been dwindling, various pictures and short videos from Instagram had also been deleted after they had left from Chicago. (In fact, even Chulanonts Instagram had been stagnant.)-(or in which breaking up with the love of your life is a mistake you only make once and correction should be handled swiftly lest it be too late- is what the russian fairy concludes)





	1. Chapter 1

_EROS OFF STAGE?_

_For any of you catching up on the sensational, teen-idol, lead singer and guitarist of the band ONE OK DANCE!, Yuuri Katsuki, or ‘Eros’, it was just mentioned in his interview today in Tokyo that the band will be stopping their tour to America, and staying in Japan a while longer. The reasons that were mentioned was because they needed a break and Katsuki needed time to reconnect with his original roots, however was that really the only reason?_

_ONE OK DANCE! started as a trio at the basement concerts of Detroit. Originally with two lead vocalists (Yuuri Katsuki and  Guang Hong Ji) who were also their guitarist and bassist and the drummer who was their then powerful social media weapon (Phichit Chulanont), they had paved their way to fame by attracting hordes of fans fascinated by what they had to convey through their songs. Their fame was also due to their active social media accounts, twitter, Instagram, snapchats, even tumblr. They had never ignored a tweet, always thanked their fans for their ongoing support._

_A year later found them with two more members, Leo de la Iglesia, their second guitarist, and Emil Nekola, their keyboardist. Their popularity only made an upward jump after that, tearing through the billboard music charts, and winning the BMAs for ‘top social artist’. Things had been smooth sailing for them (with the exception of the ongoing rivalry between them and Jean-Jacques’s Crimson 5) until now, it seems._

_Following the recent breakup with Victor Nikiforov, well renowned face of the classical world of music, Katsuki had been declining interviews and had even refused to sing on stage for the music festival in Chicago. The usual updates on twitter has been dwindling, various pictures and short videos from Instagram had also been deleted after they had left from Chicago. (In fact, even Chulanonts Instagram had been stagnant.)_

_Various fans had been throwing down speculations that the bands recent break in Japan is also due to the ‘sweetheart of the teen rock world’s’, recent heartbreak. Though it could be true, it also cannot be ignored that their breakup had also broken hearts all over the world. Their relationship had been the one of dreams, the Rockstar and the Maestro, the perfect fairy-tale of classical, pop, and rock music alike._

_Going back as to why the tour had been postponed, some fans had heard a rumour that it was going to be cancelled altogether, while another said they had spotted one of the band members in Detroit…….._

_-_

-

-

The strings of a piano are slightly less restrained than that of a guitar. There’s eighty-eight keys in over eight octaves where a typical guitar and its six strings is capable of four and a half octaves. There’s always that question that comes up occasionally every time he visits Victors apartment; can a guitarist play music written for the piano? Or vice versa? 

He remembers a soft hum and hands moving up to comb slowly through dark hair before he gets his answer,

‘ _That’s….a thought huh? Well I’ve played the piano a few times, and I’m obviously not as good as you but…a pianist can play ten notes simultaneously while a guitarist can only play six at the same time. You’re….. not really asking me that, right?’_

Another soft hum,

‘ _Who plays it better? Isn’t the answer pretty obvious Yurio? An experienced guitarist can ‘arrange’ the piano music that is recognisable to the guitar. Instruments have never mattered; the music is only as good as the musician.’_

Yuri had scowled at that. Instruments never mattered? Bullshit. Personality shows through the music ones chose to use. The gentle keys of an ancient piano or the stinging strings of a brand new electric guitar? You choose the ones that defines _you._

‘ _Even if you’re no good at it?’_

Katsuki Yuuri stares him down with a look, genuinely curious. And he’d scoffed,

‘ _Especially then,’_

Experience doesn’t come out of thin air, you earn it with blood, sweat, and tears. Yuuri smiles at him then, but his eyes do not follow, though he nods in agreement after. Yuri remembers wanting to ask him then, if he could finally try. Finally take a step outside to the things he truly love most.

Victor bursts inside the peaceful quiet, laughing about one thing or the other while Makkachin barks behind him. The moment is broken but he’d promised himself that he’ll find another one soon. Not now, when he’s too afraid to admit that he doesn’t want to be a pianist anymore.

Yuri remembers noises, laughter, a whine, and a shout. Victors apartment was lively then, he’d come every once in a while, to drop off his homemade pirozhki that he claims to have made too much of. There were always noises coming out of that apartment, the edging riff of Yuuri’s guitar, the twinkling of Victor’s ridiculously huge piano, their voices in harmony, in sync.

He’d thought it’ll last forever, admittedly there was these achingly loud silences that tells him Yuuri was being too quiet. There were those inconsistent banging groaning out from the piano, speaks to him about the frown at Victors face. They never lasted long though, like a stumbled note, it almost always comes back together to its accord.

Almost.

He hadn’t even realised it’d happened. Suddenly, the quiet was oppressive, turns the corners of the apartment dark and bare. Like something was taken away and had left these dark clouds disguised as spaces. Victor is no better. Yuri remembers being so _angry_ he screams at the top of his lungs to stop that horrendous beating Victor is doing to his piano.

‘ _Music? You’re pouring your blood at it; your fingers slip on every key! Stop it! I prefer silence than this racket!’_

Its three months before Victor finally picks up his baton again. Another three where he faces the orchestra with a carefully placed mask. Victor tries to forget but Yuri does the opposite. He thinks back, evaluates every possible outcome that has led to this.

He gave up in the end too. Yuri was never the one for being patient.

Things had been tense between Victor and him, ever since then. Victor tries hard to smoothen it out, being his half-brother might be something to do with it but he knows Victor misses it too. The easy conversations, the banter. Yuri scowls in disdain; they’ve never been as close as they were when _he_ was with them, why should they stay the same after he’d left? It’s certainly not _Yuri_ tying them together.

So, he uses it to his advantage. Victor is desperate to get closer to him? Fine, he’ll just have do one thing for Yuri in return.

He holds up two concert tickets at him, careful to cover all the names listed by the side. Narrows his eyes at Victor and looks to the side,

“You take me out here and I’ll stop bringing him up. You know Yakov never lets me go out alone, and Beka’s out of town. You do this one thing for me, and Katsuki Yuuri never existed. Deal?”

“Yuri….” There’s a warning in his tone, “This concert, who- “

“No one you’d know,” he interrupts quickly, hopes the other doesn’t sense the desperation in his voice, “random bands. Hardly a place for a famous _Rockstar_ to go to,” Yuri’s not the only one keeping track of what _he’d_ been doing. But Yuri bets on this one night alone, even badgered Chris to tell his boyfriend who was the bands manager to keep it quiet for the public.

It all comes to nothing if Victor finds out to soon though.

“ _Deal?”_

He gets a sigh before the answer.

“Fine.”

 

And then its tomorrow night, and then finally, _finally_ they’re here. Amongst sweaty, hormonal teenagers, emotional adults and people who were just there to have a good time. He knows he fits in none of that category, Yuri is here with a _purpose._

“Hey, you know what I heard? There’s a rumour running around that there’s gonna be a _special guest- “_

Yuri curses silently and tugs at Victors hand to move away from the passing conversation.

“Yuraaa, slow down…”

He scowls at Victor, and tugs harder ignoring his brothers whining. They don’t have front row seats, but anybody with a brain knows the only real audience are the ones directly in front of the stage. He intends to put Victor through hours of standing, there will be _no breaks._ When the last band comes out Yuri wants him tired and preferably scared out of his mind.

He snarls at someone that’d knocked into him.

“Yura, can’t you be more polite?”

The fuck is he talking about? Yuri Plisetsky will always be kind of an asshole. The ‘kind of’ changes things to a dramatic level.

The open stadium is probably not really any bigger compared to other concerts he’d been with Beka, but that’s what makes the surprise-to-be a definite shocker. He’d be disappointed if it didn’t end up in tomorrow’s newspaper.

The people milling around them are dressed in the standard rock concert assembly, spiky accessories, black t-shirts, tank tops, bras, he’s _not_ sure if those leather ropes are for some bdsm play or a replacement for clothes but whatever.

It’s _definitely_ not Victors scene though. Yuri hides a smirk when one of the guys who gave up on shirts and was wearing short shorts comes up to them and announces about the downfall of America. Victor grimaced, shuffles to the side, close to his brother. Yuri tuts, the guys probably high, America has been brought down for a long time already. Mainly from their own people, but hey, you didn’t hear it from him.

Well, at least Victor didn’t look out of place that much. A simple collarless maroon shirt with jeans, he’s surprised Victor hadn’t pull out his overpriced sunglasses. He shrugs, Yuri is used to this kind of places. It doesn’t matter which concert, he’s loath to depart from his dark tiger printed sweatshirt Yuuri got for him.

Victor had glared at him for that. Yuri cackles internally, ‘ _that was nothing old man! Just wait till you see what’s in it for you- ‘_

Around them, the stadium darkens with anticipation. It’s a silence that speaks a thousand words when the speakers boom a loud guitar solo as the first band emerges. And this, _this_ is what Yuri had been waiting all week for, the tingling under his skin like electric, the boom of the speakers digging in through his lungs, to his heart, the exhilaration of drumbeats roaring like the cacophony of the audience.

He spies at Victor beside him and is pleased when the man looks around pensively at the stage as if something is going to come out and eat him. ‘ _Oh, it will…’_ Victor had never been under the stage before, standing among a crowd smelling increasingly of sweat and booze, oh no, Victor Nikiforov always had front row seats from his boyfriend, _at the back_ , where he could safely watch everything and not be a part of all that human secretion.

The first band goes off without a hitch, the announcer thanking them and rattling of the name of the next band. It’s the same with the second and the third, and by then the adrenaline fuzzing in his blood had already worn off. People had started offering drinks and starting up conversations. Its laid back and relaxed, even Victor is humming along the third band’s music right after they were done.

Yuri puffs out a ‘ _no’_ when one of them offers him a drink, Victor takes it with a dazzling smile and gulps it in one go. He raises his eyebrows at him,

“I thought _you_ were the designated driver,”

“We’ll take the train,”

He frowns at Victor,

“You hate trains.”

“Well _Yura,_ I am not really fond of rock concerts either,”

He tries his damn hardest not to laugh at Victor’s face. Yuri’s not even done yet and Victor already has cold feet.

“ _And finally, ladies and gentlemen! I’m sure everybody is dying to know just what mystery band we got for you tonight!”_ the announcer booms as loud as the speaker can take, that still didn’t silence out Victor’s sharp intake of breath on ‘mystery band’.

“ _Give it up for-!”_

Yuri smiles with his teeth, Victor shakes his head to the side,

“ _ONE-“_

A small whisper from Victor, “No…”

“ _OK-“_

_“Fuck-“_

_“DANCE!!!”_

And the crowd goes _wild._

They’re throwing their hands up in the air, screaming and crying, (Yuri’s positive the girl beside him was sobbing into her taco,). He doesn’t know where any of it come from but the cheering intensifies as fog comes out on stage and a figure is seen walking closely towards them. Shirts, pants and (underwear?) are thrown into the air. Finally, _Eros_ emerges from the remnants of Yuri’s dreams with his band members.

No one had known they were going to come, _Yuri_ had only known from squeezing it out of Chris (and had come prepared with pen and mini poster inside his sweater, just because Eros is his brother’s ex-boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s still not a fan,) but the important thing was, _Victor_ hadn’t known he was going to come and what’s a greater get-together than forcing your brother to watch his ex-boyfriends concert?

“ _EROS EROS EROS EROS-“_

It reverberates throughout the stadium and standing there, in all his crop top glory, was Yuuri.

The first thing he notices, admittedly, was the new piercing at his belly button. Was it really new, or had it already been there? It makes his face heat up with the wink Eros sends to his fans. Judging by Victor’s similarly red ears, it _was_ new, so was the extra metal piercings at his ears. The tattoos weren’t though, the blue dragon curling around his neck, tangles to the tip of his left hand. (There’s a story about that somewhere, something about his sister and an accident with her Yakuza boyfriend.)

The dark blue crop top, matched with his tight black leather pants makes him gape when Eros starts to laugh and wave to them. It’s hot, Yuri wonders slowly, the sweat glistens at the muscles of Eros’s arms, and those pants makes his thighs that much sexier. Its _flaming hot_ , and Yuri remembers why he had that stupid crush for Eros before he even started dating his brother.

 _“Hello Detroit! Is everyone having a good time tonight?”_  Yuuri shouts it out to them, and the speakers echoes his voice across the small stadium. They scream back at him in affirmation.

His eyes crinkle a little when he smiles, the brown in them shines brighter under the stage lights. It’s made more beautiful by the eyeliner and the make-up, there _must_ be lipstick in there somewhere, it couldn’t naturally be that pink, right? His hair is slicked back again though it always was whenever he is Eros. ‘ _Beautiful and sexy’_ Phichit had said to him once, he told him he and Yuuri repeats that mantra every time they go on stage.

And there is Eros, beautiful and sexy. He chats it up with the audience, Phichit occasionally piping up to make some joke or the other, Yuri is just in time to see Eros pull the middle finger at Phichit at one of his jokes before he’s whirled around by a vice grip on his shoulder.    

There is blazing fury in Victor’s blue eyes, his lips thinned with anger. Yuri smirks. _Perfect._

“Yura.”

He smiles, if he had fangs he’d have flashed it at Victor,

“Yeah?”

“You…” he chokes it out, “you _knew,”_

Yuri shrugs, “Eh, maybe.” He tries to shake off the hand on his shoulder but Victor only grips on it harder,

“Cut the bullshit. _You_ set this up and you- you-“he shakes his head, squeezes his shoulder, “What do you get from this Yura? Why can’t you just let this _go?”_

Let this go? Let _this go?_

 _“You took it away from me!”_ he never got to ask Yuuri what he wanted, he never got to tell _Victor_ what he wanted to do either. His own _brother_ took that away from him, half a year and Yuri Plisetsky is _still playing the damn fucking piano-_

“Both of you! Didn’t even think about what it really meant! What you left behind!”

He’s half shouting at him, the crowd swallows it up. On stage, Eros finally strokes his fingers at the strings of his guitar.

Victor snarls back at him,

“ _I_ wasn’t the one _leaving._ I asked him to stay, he didn’t. What more do you want _Yuri?”_

The guitar starts to sing.

“I wanted you to take him _back._ But you didn’t, you did _nothing- “_

_‘There’s a song that I love_

_That you once played for me’_

Victor whips his head up to the stage at the same time Yuri howls in laughter. Of all the songs they had, they chose _this?_

_‘It had all the right chords_

_And a sweet melody’_

Yuri sees the dawning realisation just as Eros’s voice snakes up to them, even feels a slight tremble running through Victor’s hand still on his shoulder,

 

_It was back when we started_

_When there was mystery_

_Now they’ve all been erased_

_On my music machine_

This is the moment he sees Victor eyes close and was that his imagination or did Eros’s voice wavered?

 

_And it’s all because of you_

_I’ve got a list of songs I can’t listen to_

Because Yuri is kind off an asshole he taps Victor’s hand, grins, “Enjoying the concert brother?” oh he’s going to get shit for this for weeks to come but it’s so fucking worth it to see the way Victors face twist in anger, (It’s funny… unnatural more like. Victor is usually sunny and never stayed mad for long,)

 

_And it’s all because we’re through_

_I’ve got a list of songs I can’t listen to_

Eros is a force of energy, heat. He tears his eyes away from Victor to watch Yuuri pour his heart out on stage. Electricity in its truest form, like the way his heads bang with the music and his face morphs into anguish, hair flying everywhere. Phichit moves with the beat, so does Guang Hong, his voice sings along with Eros while Leo backs them up with his guitar. Emil is a no-show tonight but is no doubt supporting them backstage.

Victor is frozen, eyes hopelessly glued to the way the crop top sticks to Eros’s sweaty skin.

It’s not after the last lyrics flows out, after the crowd screams for an encore, that Victor exhales a quiet breath. He doesn’t look at Yuri when he turns his back, pulls out his sunglasses ( _his pants didn’t have any pockets how?)_ and started walking to the exit,

“I’ll wait outside.”

“ _What-_ no come back-“

He got them _backstage passes_ , Victor thought he could just run away _again?_ Yuri tries to chase after his stupid maroon shirt but its quickly swallowed up by the energetic crowd that couldn’t stop screaming at Eros to sing ‘ _You Only Live Once’_ and _that’s_ the song he made with Vic- Urgh, _where is he??_

Yuri finds himself somewhere near the exit, fuming to no one. The stadium by now had mellowed down to a constant buzz, far more relaxed than before. The band’s already backstage then. He turns and stomps back towards the stage when he bumps into a hard body,

“ _Fucking watch where you’re go-“_

He blinks, the poster in his sweater digs to his skin.

“Hi asshole,”

Eros smiles at him, his hair in disarray but still manages to look handsome as stupid as it is,

“Hello _Yurio_ ,”


	2. bye-bye-bye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Phichit.” Anger curls in his stomach, he grits his teeth and tries to ignore the hurt making his heart beat in despair. Phichit who was talking to Leo quickly shifts his attention to Yuuri when he hears his faint voice, “Yeah?”
> 
> “I wanna crash the stage.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -this wasnt supposed to be this long but I suspect the length of every chap is gonna be very irregular from now on.  
> -everyone is aged up, I cant specify but maybe three to four years older than their original age  
> -Wasn’t sure whether to mark this as mature or explicit but I made it explicit just to play it safe, it’s pretty short right where ‘An audio’ and ‘the audio cuts off’.  
> -i tried to keep everyone in character? but im sorry if theyre a bit different considering the au

[ _An Instagram post with the caption, ‘Roadtrip to Russia part (3/9)’ from a year before._

_The short video starts with darkness and an indistinct grumbling at the background. The video clears and the way it vibrates clues in that the occupant is in a moving vehicle. It closes in on a bed at the side, its blue sheets are rumpled, and wild dark hair is seen peeking out from the blanket. The video shakes again as a giggle tears through the silence,_

_‘Yuuuri! It’s time to wake up!’_

_The voice is high and cheery. There’s a window beside the bed, outside, the sun has barely begun to rise. The figure in the blankets shifts and a low croak tumbles out,_

_‘…..five m’er minutes….’_

_It closes again on the figure, this time directly on top of the bed. A hand comes up to shake the sleeping figure awake. It is pale, long and slender, a thin gold bracelet circling its wrist._

_‘Yuuri come on…..you promised we could watch the sunrise together!’_

_‘……five…..’_

_‘fine?’_

_There’s a moment of silence before a long, drawn out sigh. Yuuri shuffles out of his blanket, his hair sticks up everywhere, t-shirt slipping off one of his shoulder. He squints at the camera and smiles softly when the same hand cups his face._

_‘….I have my sunrise right here….’ Yuuri doesn’t seem to realise he said it. He flushes a dark red just as the voice squealed in delight and the video is abruptly stopped with a final breathless,_

_‘Yuuri!’]_

_[Cancel/Delete]_

_[Delete]_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-Friday night, two months before Detroit Surprise-_

 

It looks a little flat, dull if he’s being honest but he’s hardly in any position to judge. ‘ _Alex Colville’_ , is signed under the painting, one of the Canadian artist who had sold one of his works to Jean-Jacques when his girlfriend had remarked that the house was too.....

Yuuri chewed his lip slowly and looks around. New York offers little in space, makes it up with the promise of luxury and minimalist aesthetic housing. JJ’s house was luxurious alright, private gym, jacuzzi at the balcony, and his studio looked like it was actually liveable rather than the hell pit his band frequented in. (Then again, maybe that was just their fault.)

Its standard rich-boy house except maybe if said rich-boy was obsessed with _Crimson 5_ and had their merchandise plastered in every available surface. Phichit came out of the toilet moments ago complaining about JJ’s face staring at him while he was taking a shit, he’s not surprised Isabella wanted to have _something_ to counter the mass of JJ over-populating the house. And so, _Alex Colville_ it is.

He stares at it harder, squinting. His abandoned glasses lie somewhere at their shared apartment, and he’s not wearing contacts. It doesn’t matter anyway, he came here because Phichit nagged him to and Guang Hong had the kind of puppy eyes that could make you feel like a criminal for denying it. Also, there was Celestino and Masumi. And JJ.

Yuuri sighs in exasperation. The painting is _plain_ , Victor would no doubt have laughed at his face and told him he just doesn’t see the story hidden behind its lines and colours. Maybe start telling him about the profound simplicity of the brushstrokes and a little remark on the painters’ inspiration. He’d always seemed like he knew everything. He’d have stared straight at his eyes and asked him, ‘ _So what’s your story, Yuuri?’_

Yuuri’s story goes like this, to put it bluntly;

He’s been in a slump ever since his break-up. And as a result, his _band_ doesn’t function properly with him moping around the apartment. He can never look at Leo properly now, instead his guitar glares back at him in his place. There’s a time skip somewhere here. It’s all blurry to him, time behaves oddly when you wish you were using it doing something else.

Yuuri may or may not get off his ass and drunk-sang some of their songs on stage because they were getting mildly desperate for attention. JJ, also, may or may not made a comment on how their ‘rivalry’ had crumbled because of their degrading performance. (and Celestino, their former agent and beloved ‘bear uncle’ may or may not have called Phichit to tell him that JJ had a party this weekend and Yuuri should grab this chance to stop their accidental rivalry (he still has no idea how _that_ happened).)

Don’t take him wrong, his grateful that after all these years, Celestino still cares about how they’ve been doing. He knows he should use this opportunity to relax and mingle and whatever the hell you do after a break up. ‘ _Fuck a hot guy in your general vicinity?_ ’ is what he imagines Phichit would say. He looks at the mass of body crowding over the living room, spilling out to the balcony, at the stage where a slow song played. Plenty there surely.

Except the champagne was really getting to him, and he’s afraid if he takes another step he’d threw up on the nice painting he’s leaning on. God, he never wanted to come here. What’s a party when you can just wallow in misery with a bucket of ice cream watching midwives curse each other to hell and back, _alone?_ He doesn’t want to talk to JJ, who has this idea that Yuuri has something against his perfect face, or to Isabella who can’t stop snatching worried glances every time anyone so much as mentions _couple._

His band doesn’t need him, doesn’t need him to ruin this for them.

He grabs another glass of champagne clumsily from one of the high tables and gulps it down in one shot. Alright, hot guys, hot guys, he can handle that right? He coughs, thumps his chest a little, begging his anxiety to take a break for a while. He runs his hand through his slicked back hair, resists buttoning up his collar Phichit had unbuttoned for him earlier. How did flirting work again? Surely not with one of those horrible one liners, that only works with Victor because he says it so confidenl-

 _Confidence,_ that’s it.

Yuuri blinks, three o’clock, his way, a guy with close-cropped hair and twinkling green eyes. He looks dashing….and kind. He bunches his hand together, lets out a quiet breath. Confidence hah, he’d pay good money to have a little more of that. He squares his shoulders, tries not to let dreams of blue eyes and silver hair ruin this as he walks slowly towards Hot Guy.

He gets there without any accident, oh, but the conversation Hot Guy was having with his boyfriend surely felt like one.

“Babe, let’s go back. All this…. _decor_ is creeping me out,”

Hot Guy can’t see him, is what Yuuri concludes. Because what he says next makes him regret that he ever thought he’d looked kind.

“Come on, just wait a minute alright? _Eros_ is here and I can’t just leave without asking him about what happened with him and Victor- “

“Nikiforov?”

Hot Guy startles and pales when he spots Yuuri a little way behind him. He doesn’t know what kind of face his making but judging from the way Hot Guy’s boyfriend winced, it’s not pretty. He feels numb. Everyone, _everyone_ not even one of them will give him a single minute not to think about _Victor fucking Nikiforov._ What _else_ do they want to know? Hadn’t he told them everything already? Hadn’t he made it clear that it was _personal?_

They mumbled that they should probably, really, leave since its already so late. And they’re gone in a blink of an eye. It’s nine thirty, too early for anyone to leave, absolutely too fucking early for Yuuri to deal with this.

He grabs another glass of champagne. And another, and another, and another,

-

“So, like, so like. I said. Who _the fuck_ wants ‘ta see me naked onstage right?”

“Yeah.”

“and y’know what he said? _Ya know what he said?!”_

“Uhuh.”

“H’said, ‘ _at the very least, I do’_ like he was talking ‘bout t’fucking _weather- “_

“Oh wow.”

“I men, _I mean_ , who the fuck _says that?_ ”

There’s a crash at the edge of his hearing, he mumbles something else and feels surprised that he knocked his glass of champagne off the counter.

“Like, like, I didn’t know if he _really_ wanted to see me naked or if he was just joking. I can, I can- “Leo is staring at him with a bored expression. Yuuri thinks he might be wasting his time. He gulps down another glass just to chase the guilt away, “I c-can sing and play at, at the same time.”

He feels Leo patting his back softly, “Yes Yuuri, that’s quite a feat, isn’t it?”

“Yeah! Right! I fuck a lot of stuff up but at least I don’t fuck that up. Sometimes. Maybe.”

“Yuuri- “

“Anyway, I’m good at that! But you know what I’m _not_ good at? _Feelings._ Fuck feelings what the fuck. How the you know he wants to come at you or he only wants you to stay? How do you know he’s sad or-or angry when he smiles at you? How- “his voice breaks, a broken, fragile thing, “How do you know it’s alright when everyone says it’s not?”

Leo takes a little while to answer back.

Yuuri tries to piece back together just where the hell he is right now. There’s a low buzz behind him, he’s at the mini bar with Leo. So. Still at JJ’s house then. His suit jacket is abandoned, the buttons of his shirt is opened so low its centimetres away from his bellybutton. Hah. Hahah, buttons and belly buttons.

“You talk.” Leo finally says. He takes the hand Yuuri has clutched tightly at the glass, “You _talk_ to him Yuuri.”

He stares at him blankly for a moment before he bursts out in laughter, banging the counter in glee” Yes! Why the hell does it sound so _easy_ when you say it? Ahahah _fuck- “_

He only gets to see Leo frowning at him before Phichit stumbles up to them, cheeks nearly as pink as Yuuri’s and a wide smile at his face.

“Heyyy guys! Am I missing something here?”

Yuuri immediately crows over him and they laugh at each other about the ridiculous décor yet again. Its eleven something at night. JJ was chatting up with Masumi near the swimming pool. At the place where a band was playing, a slow version of AC/DC’s _Ride On_ flows out and sneaks in his head, makes it ache and cry a little with heartbreak _._

 _‘Heartbreak’_ did he really have the right to say that? He brought this on himself after all.

Phichit has given up on him to drift to Leo and Guang Hong who must’ve appeared somewhere between when he was contemplating breaking down or smashing the microphone off the singers’ face. They’re talking about Emil, Yuuri really tries to listen (especially when the ‘ _Violin Twins’_ came out, you know Emil’s having another rare episode with his boyfriend. He hopes they would make up, his beautiful beard starts to shed when he’s in stress.) but another conversation floats behind him, the voice seems to magnify just as his name was mentioned,

_“Isn’t that Eros at the minibar? Damn he looks pretty messed up,”_

_“Hey, you know I would too if I found out my ex was fucking some movie star- “_

And there, _right_ there, was the reason he’s drowning himself in alcohol, wasn’t it? The gossip came out first before the article, a blurred picture of Victor pressed up too close to a woman he might’ve blushed if she ever smiled at him.

Victor Nikiforov ‘The _Playboy’_ , Victor Nikiforov ‘The _Heartthrob’_ , he knows as well as Victor that all these labels thrown around are just the media trying to paint this other version of him. There’s a time when he once told Yuuri that he never could act like that ever again. Yet here they are.

Jealousy is something he can deal with; the niggling sense of worry is something he cannot. _‘Is he drinking too much?’, ‘Did he skip any dinners?’, ‘Makkachin should be taking care of him…right?’_ These are thoughts that haunts him every time they mention Victor, thoughts that has _no right_ to be there after the very existence of Victor is currently cock-blocking him before he even gets to speak to another Hot Guy in his vicinity damn it.

Fuck that. Fuck _him._ Fuck epithets too.

“Phichit.” Anger curls in his stomach, he grits his teeth and tries to ignore the hurt making his heart beat in despair. Phichit who was talking to Leo quickly shifts his attention to Yuuri when he hears his faint voice, “Yeah?”

“I wanna crash the stage.”

There should be a capital in that sentence somewhere. Leo and Guang Hong who had stopped their conversation groaned in unison when Phichit woops and pumps his fist in the air.

“About fucking _time- “_

Leo tries to protest, “Yuuri no.” the same time Guang Hong lets out a horrified whisper, “Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

Phichit sticks his tongue out at them, “Yuuri _yes_. Come _on_ guys it’s been a hell few weeks, when’s the last time we ever crashed the stage eh?”

“Since we promised _not_ to- “

“That was what? Two years ago?”

“Yeah you ever wonder why we _never_ did it again?”

“Leo’s right Phichit…I don’t want to call the ambulance again you know…”

Yuuri watches them quietly in silence. Shrugs and starts to stand up shakily. He doesn’t want to force them, he already feels like he’s dragging them down with his problems enough. He turns around and walks steadily towards the singer. _Ride On_ guides him to his destination, bumping over people chatting and eating. His hands tremble as it rolls up his sleeves.

He feels mildly surprised to see Phichit, Leo and Guang Hong already waiting for him up front. _Very_ surprised when Phichit grins at him, whirls around and promptly punch the singer off the stage.

 

 

 

Ten minutes later, _Gives You Hell_ rakes its lyrics at the walls of Jean-Jacques house, making it run red with Yuuri’s tears and misplaced anger. He’s lost his shirt somewhere, and his pants are sinking down in the swimming pool where he’d thrown it off after smacking someone’s face with it.

Yuuri’s voice is hoarse from semi screaming and he’s sweating and he thinks he’s going to throw up any second and he honestly never felt this _relieved_ in months since the break-up.

The aftermath is horrific, JJ comes back from sending his girlfriend back home to groups of people hooting over a practically naked Yuuri for an encore. All the lamps are broken, the drinks spilled- is his microwave on _fire?_ All his people are in various state of undress, and Yuuri, _Yuuri_ ’s clutching the microphone like it’s his heart in his hands, making this weird dance moves he refuses to admit was borderline erotic. When Yuuri spots JJ standing shocked still at the doorway, he winks his way and licks his lips.

JJ _does not_ blush and he certainly did not sputter. What he did do was stomp his way to a pale looking Masumi and demands him to take them out of his house. Right now.

 

They didn’t quite make the headlines the next day but any bridges they were hoping to build with JJ never makes it through ever again.

-

 

[ _It’s a twitter post by ‘@phichit+chu’ with the words, ‘Went out for a soda, came back and they’re professing their Undying Love for each other??’ followed by a naughty looking emoji on top. Under it is two grainy pictures set in what seems as a messy music studio._

_The wall facing the picture has a smattering of a couple of languages ranging from Japanese to English scrawled all over with chalk but it is too blurry to discern what it says, the wall itself looks as if it’s one huge blackboard. Wires and musical instruments is either hanged or laying all around the room._

_The first picture contains a man kneeling in front of another. His silver hair is dishevelled and he is holding out an ominously large dildo to the horrified looks of its receiver. The second picture is of the other man, now more recognisable as Yuuri, smacking Victor on the forehead with said dildo._

_Another tweet threaded from the first one, says, ‘Sad news today guys, Eros is officially not single anymore :(‘ ]_

_[Cancel/Delete]_

_[Delete]_

_-_

_-Saturday night, one month before Detroit Surprise-_

Despite all the publicity, the first time they came to New York they were homeless. Freak snowstorms wasn’t something they’ve encountered lately and so was empty fuels. The mini RV they rented used its last fuel power for it to park somewhere in downtown New York where he, Phichit, and Guang Hong were all more than wary to explore.

Plus the freezing cold temperature and the absence of any transmission, signal or signs of life, _ONE OK DANCE!_ that time was on an all-time low since they’ve decided to move from Detroit to New York. They’ve recently changed their agent to Masumi who was recommended by Celestino and the kind man himself had given them his address if they couldn’t reach any hotel.

Then, however, hotels and apartments are a fantasy and their grumbling stomach and cold fingers made them desperate for any kind of shelter at all, not accounting their cheap old vehicle. (Not that they didn’t love it, their band was basically born in it, Phichit was set on finally buying it and changing the license plate to PEN15)

It was try or die time situation, he recalled. Vicchan had been whining at them non-stop as they argued over each other over who has to go out and find somewhere to eat, while they rubbed their cold knuckles together. Guang Hong had to do it in the end, over three gruelling Rock Paper Scissors session ( _‘Jan Ken Po! Come on guys say it with me,’ ‘Okay…. Phichit,’)_ He also recalled feeling like complete shit after Guang Hong produced his most convincing puppy eyes yet but before he or Phichit could relent Vicchan had let out another pitiful whine that sent Guang Hongs face to shame.

‘ _Good luck and don’t die Ji!’_

 And with a final slam and an apologetic look from Yuuri, Guang Hong was forced to set off on a treacherous journey to find food and fuel for his two asshole friends and their cute dog. Well less treacherous when not five minutes later he accidentally bumped into a stranger with great hair and very pretty eyes.

Another five minutes and they’ve made their apologies and introductions, Guang Hong then found out that Leo’s, ( _de la Iglesia,_ he has a _very_ nice voice too) family owns a restaurant a ten-minute walk from here and he was just heading there for dinner with his parents. Then with a slight blush (at least, Guang Hong hoped it was one,) he’d asked if Guang Hong and his friends wanted to join him. He didn’t even have to use his puppy eyes on Leo.

Fast forward twenty minutes and a couple of grateful tears for Leo, they’re warmed up, satisfied and full on quinoas, beef enchiladas, and the most heavenly taco pie. They had Vicchan snuggling down on one of the many worn out sofas laid up at the top of the restaurant where Leo usually sleeps when there’s no one to take care of the place. He’d offered them the admittedly small space for them to crash the night. Its dusty, full of knick-knacks and the tiny television at the corner is set to play a series of Mexican soap operas for 24 hours. It’s absolute paradise to them.

They couldn’t thank him and his parents enough. The next day, they could finally contact Masumi and would be on the hunt for a new apartment right away. Before all that though, when they had finally recovered their RV from the side of the road, Yuuri had seen the way Leo admired his guitar and asked him if he wanted to tag along when they finally see their new studio. The wide smile he gave Yuuri is an answer enough in itself.

That’s how Leo ended up with them anyway. He can tell you about how he fell in love with their band, or about the private ‘study sessions’ he had with Guang Hong after they accepted him into the band, or even how he wrote some of the hit songs they’ve produced. Even tell you about the apartment they finally found near their studio which had, unfortunately, two bedrooms only. It was an issue for nigh on two minutes before Leo blurts out that he has an extra room at his place since his old roommate moved out. No questions were asked on who was going to move in with him. How convenient.

That’s _his_ origin story, what’s more to tell? Emil? He ended up with them through _connections_ really. Masumi called his boyfriend, who called his friend, who called his friends’ _girlfriend_ , who finally called her brother’s boyfriend about their band. Tada. The first time they meet Emil he was ‘BBM’ for a month (‘Beautiful Beard Man’ christened by none other than Phichit himself,) and he was never really close to them as Leo but he’d always gave them sound advice whenever it was needed. Yuuri never thought he could’ve survived the aftermath of afterparty concerts without him really, (‘ _Remember Yuuri, every time you hold a glass of alcohol, you say this to it: ‘_ Not _this time you piece of shit-‘)_

It’s a wonder how during all that connection he never found out about Victor through any of them.

 

That’s not what’s he trying to say at all anyway. What he’s _trying_ to say through all these convoluted mess of his mind is: _Taco Pie._

The last piece of which Leo’s mom had sent them, sitting innocently in the middle of their dining room table. Yuuri stares at the open door of the empty refrigerator. Looks back at the slice of taco pie.

“Honey! I’m home!”

Yuuri quickly snatches the plate of taco pie off the table and dashes to his room, closes the door with a slam and clicks to lock it. Days living with Phichit Chulanont has its pros and cons, sometimes you’re living with the best roommate ever, other times you’re in a warzone and fighting the spawn of Satan himself. The apartment wasn’t the problem, they got it a few years ago and it was cosy, not that spacious but enough to fit in Phichits hamsters. The company is a whole other matter.

“Yuuri? Are you watching porn again? Come on we talked about this, _mucho masturbation_ man, couldn’t you wait for me?”

The phone beside him pings with a notification, Yuuri ignores it. He takes the vibrating phone and shoves it inside one of his drawers. He shuffles closer in the bed, hugging the plate of taco pie to his chest as he begins munching like his life depended on it. Outside, the sound of rustling continues while Phichit drops off the stuff from the studio; not that many he guesses. Ever since the state he’s been in, it’s a high probability that Phichit only has half-baked song ideas, unused music sheets and, if he’s lucky, the new issue for _Saga_ squeezed somewhere in between. Yuuri gulps silently when he hears Phichit closing in on the dining room.

“Hey man, Leo told me he left his mom’s taco pie here when he dropped by, is it in the fridge?”

He’s having messages again, the drawer where he shoved his phone is shaking, the knob itself looks as if its glaring at him. By then the plate at his hands is empty, Yuuri feels guilt somewhere in that deep smelly pit of hurt, confusion and stubbornness, so he doesn’t really feel _that_ bad for finishing the taco pie.

In the kitchen, he hears the refrigerator door click open.

“Yuuri _Katsuki_ where are all the pop tarts I saved for tomorrow?” ah, he might say Phichit sounds angry but the note of disbelief and panic rising in it says otherwise, “and wasn’t there the sushi I left here from yesterday?!”

He puts the plate at the table beside the bed and sinks down. Groans lowly while he mashes his face on his pillow. That’s right when two huge knock bangs at his door and Phichit’s rising voice rings through,

“Katsuki I know you’re in there! You stress eating again?”

His drawer shakes again. Yuuri doesn’t move.

“ _Yuuri_ if you don’t open this door right this minute I swear to god I’ll unearth all your posters of Vict-“

_‘CRASH!’_

“…….”

“……….”

“……uh what was that?”

He hadn’t even realised he’d move. At the side, his drawer is shaking again, Yuuri feels like throwing his alarm clock at it too.

“Yuuri.”

He relents, lets out a loud enough mutter,

“Yeah.”

“Did you- uh did you,”

“…. clock.”

-which is lying broken in front of his bedroom door where he just threw it. It’s not like he never felt like throwing it before, it’s just the reason he threw it this time wasn’t because of rude early mornings, it’s because his best friend reminded him that he still has _posters_ of the person who’s currently messaging him right now.

“Okay, that’s it.”

Chulanont always gets his way, today is no different. He hears steps walking away, but it just as quickly comes back. His doorknob shakes violently before there’s a final quiet click followed swiftly by a loud resounding bang as Phichit slams his door open. He drops the paper clip he used to opened the door at the floor and walks in the room. Yuuri quickly turns around on his bed, wishes he could be buried underneath it.

“Yuuri…” shit, Phichit sounds _pissed,” would_ you mind telling me why all the food in the house is gone?”

Yuuri chews his bottom lip, lets out a quiet, miserable,

“Sorry…”

 

And just like that Phichit’s tense shoulders drops, he sighs in exasperation and flops down on the bed with him, “Hey, hey, I know you’re in a bad place, but I haven’t had dinner, _you_ haven’t been talking to us in _weeks_ since JJ’s party and okay, I admit. I kind of knew this was going to happen? Victor called you. Don’t ask me how I know, uh never mind you’d know its Chris anyway. _But_ I’d thought if you were ever gonna say anything, you were going to tell _me_ first.”

There’s a moment of silence after that. Even the insistent shaking of his drawer doesn’t cut it.

Another sigh, “What did he say?”

Saturday nights are supposed to be _fun,_ Yuuri tells himself. You’re supposed to be hanging out, partying, watching movies, not having a pity party with your roommate just because he couldn’t keep it to himself and stole your dinner as a result.

Phichit was different though, had always been. Ever since they met in Detroit and he told him that Yuuri had a great voice he knew he could trust Phichit about anything. They’ve had each other’s backs even when Yuuri started dating and Phichit started talking to that Korean singer. Of course, he wouldn’t tell anyone, especially about this.

Yuuri finally sat up, crumbles a little under Phichit’s worried gaze. He takes a deep breath and tucks his knees to his chest.

“He…. he was drunk. That time.” Exactly four thirty-two in the morning, it’s not that Yuuri remembers it explicitly or anything, his voice was quiet but raw, like someone was pulling out his heart from his throat, “told me some stuff.”

“Stuff?”

His throat is trying to close up again, Yuuri blinks and blinks and tries not to cry,

“Just random stuff.”

Random stuff like how the green tea leaves is still sitting idly at his kitchen table, like how the sunlight that slips through his curtains are the shade of Yuuri’s eyes when he’s excited, like the quiet strums of Yuuri’s guitar is something he finds he can’t live without. And more, much more. This is the part where his voice starts to scratch and edge in a way a serrated knife forces its way to flesh. Yuuri can imagine the glare sent his way as he tells him about the way Yuuri left him so suddenly, how Yuuri left Victor because they were _different_ , how he was a _fool_ to think that Yuuri ever cared for him. There’s a crash after that. A glass, a bottle, breaking.

Yuuri doesn’t say a word then, and he doesn’t say a word now. He doesn’t know where to put his tongue, he doesn’t know why he felt like he’s been stabbed several times when Victor gets angrier by the second as he sits in silence and breathes down the telephone without a word.

Phichit doesn’t need to know that. It’s what he says after that really mattered anyway.

“…. he said. He said if I really wanted to leave I could’ve just said so. Phichit he- “Yuuri chokes on a breath, gulps in a quiet breath, “-sent me tickets to that…orchestra in Barcelona, I- I _can’t- “_

Phichit sucks in a breath, whispers, “Fuck.”

“He said he- he wants to s-start over a-and _and- “_

“Yuuri- “

“-and if he sees me t-there we can talk it over and. And. And he just wants to _talk_ Phichit, in _Barcelona- “_

_“Yuuri- “_

“In Barcelona Phichit! Do you remember? At that fucking arcade we went to and you made that stupid joke about getting us married together and we played along and he said- he said if we ever got hitched he’d want to do it in- “

“Barcelona.”

“ _Yes! Why would he say that?! He knows who’ll be there! He knows what they’ll think of me! He- he- why- “_

“Yuuri!”

Phichit clamps his hand down on Yuuri’s shoulders, tries to steady Yuuri’s rising panicked voice to something more mellow. He rubs the back of Yuuri’s hands, tries to look at him in the face but Yuuri has his face hidden away under his arms,

“Hey, hey man. It’s okay, It’s fine. He say anything after that?”

“…no,”

“Okay, okay alright. Uh and um, exactly when was this orchestra….?”

“……”

“Yuuri,”

“…. today.”

Phichit squeezes his arm softly, lets out a quiet sigh.

“Ah…I see. So, I’m guessing….”

He licks his lips, turns his head to the side to look at the vibrating drawer,

“…that’s him?”

Yuuri doesn’t bother replying.

Just as Phichit was considering throwing out the phone outside the window the buzzing abruptly stops. It’s a moment before Yuuri suddenly gets up and tries to pry open the drawer, Phichit is faster though, he snatches Yuuri’s hands from reaching it and tugs it away,

“Hey. No man, we’re not gonna open that until at least tomorrow. You missed his concert, he feels like shit, there is _not_ gonna be nice words Yuuri,”

It’s a second too late before Phichit realises that was in fact, the exact wrong thing to say. He sees the tears prickling in his eyes before the soft whimper and immediately feels like a total asshole,

“Yuuri hey, _hey._ Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that but- just lay it out a moment okay? You’re not fine right now. Everything’s shit. I feel like shit cuz I’m hungry. _You_ feel like shit cuz your ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone alright, I get it.”

“Sorry...”

Phichit shakes his head quickly when he hears Yuuri’s soft apology, “Nah, I still have some snacks from the studio, _in fact,”_ he pulls Yuuri towards him with this, forces him to look at Phichit in the eye, “You know what? We’re gonna MM tonight.”

He notes Yuuri’s red puffy eyes, his pale face, the way his hands trembles, just slightly. Even the tattoo gracing his left arm makes him look less like a cool singer and more like a gangster with a breakdown. So, with great determination, he skips off the bed and hurries to grab the snacks and the player from his room.

He dumps all the junk food on Yuuri’s bed, he also throws two of those microphones they drunk-stole from one of the karaoke booths on it. As he was fixing up his player with the speakers in Yuuri’s room, he perks up when he glances at Yuuri and spots a small smile.

It’s awhile after he starts to speak up again. By then Yuuri is holding one of the mic and rolling it between his hands,

“So, have you heard Mila Madonna’s newest song yet?”

“mmm, no?”

Phichit laughs, “Yuuri, you love Mila’s works, don’t tell me you haven’t seen her new mv,”

And it’s true. Ever since he dated and got in contact with Mila the both had often discussed music together. After he made the famous ‘special appearance’ in one of her music videos, ( _Blow Your Mind (Mwah))_ they’ve kept in touch asking each other about random song ideas. There’s just that tiny bit where Yuuri hadn’t contacted her since- Well. Since he stopped contacting Victor. It’s annoying sometimes. Everything always seems to revolve around _him._

So, no, he truthfully hadn’t heard her new song yet.

Phichit looks at him in disbelief, “Seriously? _One, don’t pick up the phone, you know he’s only calling cuz he’s drunk and alone,_ no?”

Yuuri narrows his eyes at him, “…are you trying to tell me something here?”

He shakes his head at Yuuri and cracks his knuckles, grabs one of the mic on the bed and pulls Yuuri off the bed too,

“Oh boy, we’re going to go through _each of her songs_ just because you said that,”

-

-

-

It’s twenty minutes later from a rewind of _Mila Madonna’s_ songs and a surprise caused by the sudden presence of red wine someone had given Yuuri, he’d forgotten about it and it was sitting just behind the pile of records CDs at the edge of his room.

It’s exhilarating.

 _Blow Your Mind_ blasts through the speakers in full volume that will no doubt earn them a noise complain from one of the neighbours. The snacks have all been inhaled from him and Phichit, the wine flows down his throat and makes his body warm. Makes him loose, tipsy and a little bit silly as he makes kissy faces at Phichit while trying not to trip on any of his shit as he dances with Phichit and raises the bottle of wine, high up in the air.

He shunts _everything_ to the side. His unwrapped and ungiven gift to Victor rotting its way in his closet, his beloved sapphire earrings he got from him on their trip to St. Petersburg, the absence of _his_ voice, a wide, dark gaping thing that digs in everything he owns, including his heart. The irritating feeling of loss that makes home in him, the soft touch of a lover that feels like an itchy scar striking up under his thighs, around his neck, at his chest.

The shining golden bracelet tucked carefully in the same place where he’d placed Vicchan’s collar.

Yuuri prances around with Phichit, not a care in the world and in between all of that, between Mila Madonna’s beautiful voice and their contrasting horrible screeching, between the laughter and the quiet tears; Yuuri’s phone vibrates, once. Then it is silent for the rest of the night.

-

The next morning, there are words and words from Victor, messages not quite hitting the hundred. The last one is this:

‘ _Alright I understand goodbye yuuri’_

Phichit hasn’t woken up from last night’s MM session. Yuuri has his hands on his phone, gripping it tight. Because Yuuri is Yuuri, he checks the bands instagram, then their twitter, then _his_ instagram and twitter. He stays frozen a little while after that.

Then, he trudges to the bathroom. Crept slowly to the bathtub and huddles to the side, hugs his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut.

It shouldn’t mean anything, he knows this would happen. He knows, he knows, _he knows-_

Victor had unfollowed him in all social media known to man, he finds out later as he goes digging through his facebook, snapchat. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like he’s particularly active, but his heart says otherwise.

Yuuri curls his toes on the cold bathtub, shivers and cries his eyes out until he wishes he’d just drown.

-

-

-

[ _An audio with a nondescript label squeezed in a folder inside his phone between other nondescript audios. This was no.42:_

_‘There’s a shuffling sound, someone breathing heavily. Then a sudden bang; hands slamming down on the deep keys of a piano._

_‘Yuuri fuck- ‘_

_A gasp, a wet, slick sound and someone moans._

_‘Ah, ah! V-vic- ‘_

_The keys on the piano is wild now, a hand grasping for purchase. More moans, then a shaky exhale,_

_‘Victor…hurry I, I need,’_

_‘Shit Yuuri,’ another moan followed by a sound like a cap snapping open, ‘Yuuri, Yuuri, I want you to count,’_

_‘w-what?’ a surprised gasp, trailed with a low moan, ‘your fingers…’_

_The voice is husky, lingering with lust, ‘I want you to count as I finger you in that cute hole of yours Yuuri, I want to hear you say my name, I want you to- ah!’_

_A closed moan, the wet sound of two mouths locked together, sucking, licking, panting and gasping._

_‘One…’ more wet noises, a humming._

_‘t-two...’ a breathless whisper,_

_Another gasp, ‘three, three shit_ Victor,’

‘ _Yuuri, Yuuri, can you feel it inside? Can you feel me when I twist my fingers like this? You’re taking it so well for me, just for me- ‘_

_A whine and a desperate moan, ‘f-fo- ‘it barely gets out, ‘fou- fuck!’_

_‘Shit, fuck, Yuuri are you ready?’_

_‘Victor please,_ please _, I need you- ‘_

_Someone gasps, a choked off moan gets out,_

_‘Ah, f-fah, Victor,’_

_There’s heavy breathing before a deep growl, ‘Yuuri you should look at yourself right now. So, ah,’ the twinkling keys of a piano and the slap of bare skin, ‘so fucking beautiful, your back, your legs wide open, your cute pink ass, your hole with my cock sinking in right down- mmmhhmm’_

_The slick sound of kissing, the slap of skin on skin increases. They pant, moan and gasp, the din coming from the piano adding to their desperate voices._

_‘Victor, Victor!’_

_‘Ah fuck, Yuuri-’_

_Until a moan edging at a scream marks their climax._

_There’s quiet panting for a while before one of them sighs,_

_‘There’s cum on the piano Victor, you did this to yourself.’_

_‘Oh Yuuriii, playing the piano will never be the same again I’m glad!’_

_‘Hmph,’_

_‘I missed you so much Yuuri, three days is too much. At least when I’m away I know you’ll have company- ‘there’s a delighted laugh and a hollow thump,_

_‘You’re cute. I’m deleting this if you don’t wash the dishes you left. In five minutes.’_

_‘Wait Yuur-‘_

_And the audio cuts off.]_

_[Cancel/Delete]_

_[Delete]_

_-_

_-Monday, two weeks before Detroit Surprise-_

Honestly, Yuuri didn’t have any feelings for punk rock to his sister ire. He had started all this with his sister moaning about pop songs and the irritating look she sends his way every time he talks about classical music. Sometimes he thinks maybe he made the band just to spite her. It’s not that they hate each other, in fact he loves her because once upon a time, she brought him in one of her favourite concerts and _that_ made him love music in an entirely new way.

Katsuki Mari was his distant sister who stayed behind with his parents, she was his road to Detroit all those years ago, she was his constant reminder that there was always someone waiting for him whenever he returned to Japan. (He doesn’t have anything to say for himself, but Yuuri was the reason she dumped her old boyfriend and is in relationship with ‘Miss Erika that sings in the bar’ across town. That’s something right?)

It never mattered if they’ve haven’t talked for months, or if they’ve always had that same argument between their different taste of genre, ( _‘Ohh they’re ‘killing’ music aren’t they, come on Mari, society just refuses to take pop music seriously even though some of the most interesting musical innovations are coming out of that. Don’t you think it’s yet another thing that they write off because they can’t take young woman or their interest seriously?’’…. okay one, you actually have a point there. Two, I think that’s enough Sake for you bro,’)_ , Yuuri always felt safe talking to Mari, albeit not close enough to tell her everything.

His sister is someone you really don’t mess around with, especially after breaking up with ‘Asshole Asahi’ (-from which he got his accidental tattoo, woken up from a drunken night with Asahi, crying and confused. While the guy was laughing and bellowing something about ‘man’s pride’ and shit. Yuuri didn’t know Mari and he had been fighting for a while so when she’d had punched him and had told him that ‘ _this is the last straw you asshole’_ he’d just felt extremely bad about it for two months. Had felt bad about the tattoo too, but it sky-rocketed his ‘Bad boy Eros’ image to the roof so he learned to live with it-) If you say ‘jump’ she’d say, ‘fuck you’ then step on your face.

The first time he’d introduced Victor to Mari she’d dragged him to a corner and Yuuri saw his pale face turning paler as their conversation progressed. His smile was shaky when he came back. Though now considering what happened, he really didn’t favour his sister giving the shovel-talk when all of this was his fault. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d call him sooner or later.

“Yuuri? Yuuri get out of your head,”

He shakes his head, shifts his phone to his ear again,

“Um, what was that again?”

He gets a sigh, “Who’re you pounding bro?”

“Pounding...” he frowns, “ _What- “_

She laughs, “Kidding. Anyway, happy new year and all that, we’re having _Mochitsuki_ Yuuri, it’s been a long time since you’ve helped Yuuko make those puppy mochis you guys liked right,”

He’s at the studio currently. Beside him, Phichit lounging around one of the bean bags, gives him an enquiring look when he stares despondently at his feet,

“Mari, we’re…kind of busy right now. You know the stopped tour and- “

“And your break-up,”

“And I just came back from having a belly piercing, it kinda hurts, all Phichit’s idea and- “

“and your ex-boyfriend,”

“and the bands just getting back on its feet, Emil is away and- “

“And Victor Nikiforov,”

“and- _Mari,”_

_“Yuuri.”_

This time Guang-Hong looks at him questioningly from one of the office chairs, Yuuri just feels grateful that he’s speaking in a language they don’t understand. Yuuri sighs,

“Mari look- “

“I’m making mochi dicks, come visit soon Yuuri.”

“I’m just figuring some stuff out right- wait you’re making _what?”_

“See you soon,”

And she hangs up.

Yuuri groans and presses his hands to his face. When Leo asks him about it that night, he tells them that he needs to buy flight tickets to Japan. Predictably, Phichit immediately exclaims that they would be going along with him if his parents would let them and that Yuuri should take a break from not being productive and making everybody’s life hard. Not in those exact words, but Yuuri sees it as it is.

Several days and one uneventful flight later, the four of them gets acquainted with his parents, his sister, his sister’s girlfriend and his…. Junior.

“Senpai!!!”

A young man with red streaked hair comes bounding in the clearing where they’d set up all the things they need to pound the rice to make mochi. The only ones out right now, was Yuuri, his sister, and Phichit, one of which was obsessively filming all the process in Instagram. This time Yuuri was in charge of pounding the rice with the _Kine_ while Mari sits beside the _Usu_ to turn, fold and wet the rice by adding more water from the pail at her feet.

It’s tedious work, while he knows Mari works quick enough to avoid his pestle, Yuuri himself is afraid he’ll hit her hands by mistake. He’s already sweating, considers taking off his shirt so it’ll be easier. It’s a while before he speaks back to Minami.

Yuuri pants and drops his hands. He exchanges a look with an excited Phichit before handing over the pestle to him with a sigh, “Careful with that…”

Phichit beams back at him, “Of course!”

Finally, he looks back at Minami,

“Hello Mina-P.”

And Minami _loses it._

“ _Oh my god_! Senpai! Did Mari tell you? I mean it’s just my third song and people are warming up to it in Nico Nico and I was considering uploading it on Youtube but- “Minami’s someone who’d been following him ever since his first show in Detroit. Though he was a budding Vocaloid producer, he’d always admired the bands songs, and Yuuri’s voice. Was brave enough to email Yuuri himself and it’s a couple of months after until he finally gets a reply. He’d always have random emails from him now and then, gushing about their newest song, asking Yuuri if some of the lyrics were from him.

“Minami slow down,” Yuuri tries to smile back at him but the sun’s glare caught his eyes, or maybe that’s just Minami’s overwhelmingly bright face. He sits, grabs a water bottle to quench his thirst, “I’ve, well. I haven’t listened to it yet but I heard Mari likes it, so,” god, he’s so _bad_ at this, how do you reassure someone when you can’t do it yourself?

“Thank you senpai!” Minami’s smile is relentless, Yuuri thinks that if the kid starts to idolise someone else other than him he might start getting jealous. Where does all that sureness come from? Yuuri must stop feeling like he’s special or something bad will happen.

Yuuko is standing by the table with her husband shaping the sticky mochi, they’re both wearing gloves and aprons, adding red bean paste, soybean flour, soy sauce and wrapping some of them with nori. Minami waves at them and they smile and waves at him back.

Minami turns back to Yuuri, scratching his neck. Yuuri groans internally, here it goes.

“So, uh, I heard things were tough. Back there.”

“…yeah…”

Yuuri has had enough of this conversation.

Hasetsu is a quiet place. The type of place where if you tripped at your own bathroom, the whole neighbourhood would soon know about it and most probably hand you get well soon gifts right the next day. So, when his whole band showed up and most of them don’t really speak English they all turn to Yuuri. He’s been forced to exchange pleasantries to old neighbours and acquaintances on how, oh the weathers not that bad, life is sometimes rough yes, he has been eating well yes, again.

Yuuri tells nothing to his family about JJ’s party, about Victor, but he has a hunch Phichit might have clued in on them when at the first night staying in, his mother places a hot plate of Katsudon for dinner. Yuuri’s not angry. He loves Katsudon. It’s just, he wants time for himself and Hasetsu was much too small for that.

Maybe he can go visit the beach tomorrow. Alone.

Yuuri sighs. He needs to go back to his room.

He wipes his mouth, drinking in last of the water from the bottle. “Look, Minami. We just… came here to take a break, you know? So…” Yuuri faces Minami’s questioning look, damn it he doesn’t want to let Minami down, “So if you ever wanted to talk about your songs, we can….text?”

The smile he gets from that is the brightest by far,”Omigosh, thank you senpai! Of course you want to take a break sorry for-“

Yuuri waves him away, “It’s nothing really.”

They continued pounding up the mochi with Phichit being surprisingly skilled with it, ( _don’t underestimate a drummers’ arms Yuuri!)_ and him switching up with Mari to stick his hands in the mortar.

That night, after a noisy bath in the onsen and a satisfying dinner, Yuuri was just finally ready to head to his room before Yuuko turned up for desert.

Guang-Hong frowns at the colourful mochis laid up on the table, a cup of hot green tea at the side. “Um, we can really eat this anytime?”

Yuuri sighs, “Yuuko, I have to watch my weight,”

She raises her eyebrows at him, “Are you on a diet?”

“Oh, its fine! We jog every day!” Phichit pipes up from one end of the table. Yuuri gives him a stink eye.

“I still have to watch my wei- “

“Yuuri, I haven’t seen you in ages and Mari made this just for you,”

And with a resolute _clink_ she lets the plate down. Everyone around him don’t seem to notice a thing, they’re too distracted by their own mochis. Yuuri stares at the plate, he looks up at Yuuko’s smiling face, then back at the plate. He stares at it so long he thinks he made a hole at the table.

Yuuri doesn’t understand, was Mari mad at him? Hadn’t she pat him at the back to show that she cared when he’d arrived? Did he do something wrong? Was this some kind of message?

Yuuko has one of her hands under her chin, she’s thin lipped but she pushes the plate towards him anyway, “Mari said it might help if you uh, eat your problems away.” She chews her bottom lip, “Haven’t tried it but I bet it taste the same. Try it, Yuuri.”

Try it. He looks back at the plate once again. One of the tiny little penises has a heart shaped mouth. _Try it._

“Yuuko….”

They stare at each other, then they look back at the plate of tiny penis mochis. Yuuko moves it a bit, it wobbles ominously at Yuuri with happy blushing faces. The one with the heart shaped smile is pink and even has a drawn silver hair on one side of its face. Yuuri imagines Victor’s cheerful voice ringing through,

‘ _Hello Yuuri! Aren’t I cute? I still love yours though, you’re the only true size queen!’_

Yuuri narrows his eye at it. That’s what _he_ said.

He groans, “Is this what she gave _Asahi_ when he was being a massive dick?”

She giggles at him and Yuuri tries not to laugh too despite the utter horror building up inside him, “Nope. Miss Erika made this for her when Mari told her about Asahi actually,”

‘ _Ah, so that’s why. ‘Sorry you broke-up, he doesn’t deserve you’ kind of thing? Who knows maybe it runs in the family,’_ Yuuri shrugs the thought off.

They sit in silence for a moment, then Yuuri finally sighs. Relents and takes one of the penises, pops it into his mouth. He notes the look he gets from Yuuko, some mixture of pity and concern. It’s basically what he gets from everybody now, he’s sure if Victor ever looked at him like that, he’ll hate himself even more.

“Yuuri....I’m not trying to- “she sighs, exasperated, “I’m not trying to _push you_ or anything like that alright? It’s just- remember that time you accidentally snapped one of the strings from the piano in Minako’s store? You were _ten_ , but you didn’t tell anyone about it until it ate you up so bad you’d beat yourself about it every night practicing the piano- we had to- “

He sighs, no one would ever let this go, least of all him.

“-send me to the clinic when I passed out from not sleeping properly. Minako was pissed. I remember Yuuko.” Sometimes he wished he doesn’t.

She sighs again, “Just. Tell me what’s wrong Yuuri. You haven’t even asked me about Minako or the triplets yet, its obvious somethings on your mind.” _Shit,_ how self-centred can he get? This wasn’t all about him, why won’t everyone just move on and ignore him and his shitty problems? That’ll have much less things to worry about that way. Yuuri bites his lip. He wishes he was air. Needed by everyone but unseen by anyone.

He squeezes his hands together, “Not…. now. Yuuko. I just need time. Just,” the mochi is sticky and sweet, this one is sakura flavoured, “time.”

She narrows her eyes at him but gives up on it, shrugs, “fine, I’m here if you need anything.” Then she laughs, “I’m sure you’d go to Phichit first but Hasetsu’s _home,”_ she smiles softly, “don’t ever forget that okay?”

He tries to smile back, “okay.”

She picks up on a black penis, sesame maybe, and asks him, her voice casual. An absentminded thing.

“Is Masumi taking care of Vicchan? I missed him, it’s been so long since I’ve seen that little puppy,”

He chokes on his dick mochi. Has it really been that long? No one at home _knew?_

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ This had never been a good idea. Hasetsu’s home? No, home left him with screams and tears and bloody words that sticks to his skin like scars. Hasetsu is only an excuse for a refuge, who was he kidding?

He stands up abruptly, muttering about taking an early night. He ignores Yuuko’s worried face and dashes to his room even as he hears her call his name.

He should _never_ have come back.

 

-

-

-

[ _A photo from Instagram._

_It is a picture of a living room, a man with dark hair sprawled on a sofa the camera is focused at. His shirt rides up, showing a hint of skin, and he is also wearing blue boxers with poodle patterns on it. There are mugs with spilled coffee on the table up front, one of the man’s foot is pushing a mug precariously to the edge of the table. The glasses on his face is askew, the sun from the windows at the back highlights his peaceful sleeping face. A big ball of brown fur which might be a dog without a head is huddled under the man’s hand which is hanging off the sofa._

_Under the picture there is only one word,_

_‘Home.’]_

_[Cancel/Delete]_

_[Delete]_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-Thursday morning, one week before Detroit Surprise-_

 

Nobody is surprised when the first time Yuuri met Chris, he succeeded to pat The Booty, make Yuuri blush, while introducing himself all in a span of five seconds. (he didn’t really get to pat The Ass anyway, Phichit snatches his wrist mid-pat and gives the kind of smile that reminds him of potential serial killers on tv)

_“Good to meet you! Christophe Giacometti, concertmaster, party leader and,” he winked, “your boyfriends best friend.”_

Yuuri already knows that of course. Not the ‘best friend’ part but the ‘concertmaster’ part. He’s a long-time fan, concertmasters are the second-most significant person in an orchestra, after the conductor. And more often than most, the one person always standing beside Victor in his performances was Christophe Giacometti.

Now, the same hazel eyes and blond hair stares back at him at his doorstep, his face is solemn though, such a contrast from when they first met.

Yuuri’s _very_ tempted to close the door back.

He’s a nice person though, and Chris lived such a long way from New York. Yuuri suspects that he’s here to visit Masumi but it’s also true that he most possibly has come here to meet him because of Masumi too.

A week from now, Friday night maybe, _ONE OK DANCE!_ Was going to do a surprise show up in Detroit. It’s nothing really, was what Masumi had said to him, just something for them to slowly warm up to before going back to bigger concerts. He had said it to Yuuri in particular, had gave him a tentative smile,

‘ _Are you okay with that Yuuri?’_

Yuuri sighs. He’s not too sure himself, right now.

“Hello Yuuri, is Phichit home?” Chris has a light-hearted tone to his voice, even a small smile, though his eyes never strayed far from Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri shrugs, opens the door wider to let him in. “No, he went out with…” was it alright for him to tell? It wasn’t really his right.

Chris smiles at him anyway, waves a hand at him as he follows Yuuri to their messy living room, “Seung-gil Lee right? No gossip comes away from me Yuuri, his twitter gave it away first though. Never knew Chulanont could swear that much, is Korean reality tv shows really that frustrating?”

Yuuri laughs, heading over the kitchen to fix them up some coffee, “Oh, you have no idea. It’s all fun and games until it’s not.” There’s something fascinating about them, Yuuri always tried to discern whether they’re really laughing or just crying on the inside. At least he can relate to that. Phichit’s no doubt seeing the season two of Produce 101 with Seung-gil right now, he must get ready for the torrent of crying emojis that is going to flood his phone after this.

He sets the coffee slowly, unwilling to start the conversation first. Minutes passed, and it seemed that Chris too, doesn’t want to talk. He’s sitting laid back on the sofa, looking curiously at all the stuff they had strewn all around the room. Video games and consoles up front, with medium sized flat screen tv on the wall. It’s a little crooked. Record Cd’s under the table, beside the sofa, ancient ones hanged on the walls (all Phichit’s really, but one from Mari).

There’s an old phonograph sitting at the corner, dust climbing at its edges. He can’t recall from where they got that from, it feels like forever since it’s been there even though when they first bought the place it had been completely bare. Phichit thinks its haunted. Sometimes, when he sleeps in the living room, he swears he hears David Bowie’s voice crooning at him in the middle of the night from that corner. The first time he told Victor about it he’d poured salt around the phonograph and had muttered _Namaste_ at it every time they pass the corner. It was fucking hilarious.

From another corner, Phichits music player was still playing from where he’d left it. Yuuri doesn’t bother turning it off, he was fond of some of his songs.

Finally, Yuuri sits down on the sofa beside Chris, hands closing around the cup of green tea he made for himself. He takes a sip. Chris takes his cup carefully, but with grace, so like Victor.

Yuuri shakes his head. Can’t he live _one second_ without thinking about that damn man?

It’s Chris who he speaks up first, in the end. He clears his throat, and the smile he gives to Yuuri is only half forced.

“So Yuuri,” I’m not really up for small talk and,” Yuuri thinks maybe it’s the way Chris looks at him, maybe his face was just too pale for the apartment right now,” I know you’re not too but…”

Yuuri huddles closer in the sofa, his shoulders closed in, he blows softly on his hot tea, “…Masumi called you to talk to me?”

He hadn’t notice that Chris has been tensing up this entire time but his body finally relaxes as he says, “Yes,” and, “Your…. singing hasn’t been…honest?” Chris shrugs, “Look Yuuri, your throats not sore from singing too much right?”

“…no.”

“Alright so, Masumi and I thought that maybe you need to loosen up a bit? Maybe tonight we can grab some drinks out? What do you think?”

He sighs, rubs his eyes slowly, “I’m not- I don’t feel like it Chris. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no _mon chéri_ ,” Yuuri feels a smile tugging at his lips, it has been such a long time since they’ve talked, “It’s quite alright, it’s just.” Chris sighs, places the coffee down, “Well, you’ll always have your low points in music, I, myself, have experienced it, especially considering what happened but I’m not trying to _fix you_ Yuuri. You must understand that, I- _all_ of us, just want you to express yourself and not shut us out Yuuri.”

The music player has changed songs. The words sneak between them, though it’s so quiet that it might’ve just been white noise.

_‘Daddy was dumb said that I’d be something special_

_Brought me up tough but I was a gentle human’_

“So, if you can’t tell us, maybe you can show it like you’ve always did. This was what the surprise at Detroit was about Yuuri, Masumi thought it was better if I told you. Just,”

_‘Said that he loved each of my two million freckles_

_When I grew up was gonna be a superstar’_

He pauses for a moment, turns the cup to the side, “Sing your heart out.”

Even hearing it made him wince. It hurt. Victor happened too soon to be made into a song, what would he have even thought about that if he would have made one? Surely, he’d hate Yuuri even more than he does now. And what about Yuuri? Laid bare for everyone to see, naked and exposed, bloodied, made to only meat and bones as he shows to everyone how broken he really is. It’s a risk they’re asking him to take, do they understand just _what_ they want him to do?

He stares helplessly at Chris’s pleading face, tightens his hold on the mug.

Maybe…maybe his dreams of blue eyes and silver hair would stop if he did it. Maybe he can expel it like a ghost from a possessed body. Maybe, just maybe, Yuuri will finally be able to let go.

‘ _Sing you heart out.’_

Yuuri blinks slowly. “Do you want to know why we broke up?”

He can feel the moment Chris straightens up and tries not to look at Yuuri, can feel the way his ears perk up though he tries to look casually to the side.

Yuuri closes his eyes. Leans back, breathes.

“It was because I was never as good as him.”

-

-

-

There’s a list of things written down in his mind, shelved somewhere in the memory of a beautiful smile and the imprints left on his bottom lip from a gentle touch of pale fingers. He can’t really name all of them but if he were to name it, it’d be: Several Reasons Why I Left. Sounds cheesy. Overly dramatic. Like a Netflix series with too much angst and teenagers, and too little insight and depth.

Here’s number…whatever: _Victors parents._ Ah, that was a tricky one. He could still handle that though.

Here’s another one: _Their differences in music._ That has never been a problem for them…. right?

Another: _The tiny, little bit of jealousy I feel every time he plays the piano._ Shameful, but true. He had always thrived in it though, jealousy born from the urge to be better. When had it turned so poisonous?

 _Another: Vicchan._ No comment

 _Another: His dreams and my dreams._ Nothing to say.

 _Another: I wasn’t smart enough._ And Victor was brilliant, Yuuri is a faded moon next to the blazing sun.

 _And: I wasn’t strong enough._ Always making Victor feel responsible for his own weaknesses, always making him guess what was wrong with Yuuri now.

_And: I wasn’t good enough,_

_And, I wasn’t careful enough, I wasn’t social enough, I wasn’t proper enough, I wasn’t-_

Reason number one:

  _‘I wasn’t ‘enough’.’_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_[It’s a video._

_It shows Yuuri on a large bed with baby blue sheets. He has his hands on an acoustic guitar, he looks like he’s fiddling with the strings. The edge of the video is blurry, as if the one holding the camera is peeking out from somewhere._

_There’s a few seconds where Yuuri clears his throat, tries a few notes, frowns and thumps his chest, tries again. Suddenly something shakes the camera from the view, and a voice rings out,_

_‘Makkachin no!’_

_A blur of brown fur and a bark dashes in the bedroom, it bounds up to Yuuri and crashes into him. There’s a confusing moment where the camera closes in to the bed while the dog barks happily licking Yuuri’s face and Yuuri laughs along._

_A pale hand comes out to rub the dog’s, a poodle now that it is clearer, furry belly. A golden bracelet can now be seen around its wrist, the hand then moves to run its fingers through Yuuri’s hair. A deep voice,_

_‘Hello Yuuri.’_

_Yuuri smiles at the camera, crinkled corners and red cheeks, ‘Hello Vitya,’_

_He frowns, ‘Are you posting that- ‘_

_‘Nope, this is just for us,’ Victor says quickly._

_‘Stop stealing my phone Victor,’ Yuuri doesn’t really sound upset, he says it in an offhand tone, like Victor wouldn’t listen to him anyway._

_As if to prove his point, Victor laughs at him in reply._

_Yuuri gives him a wondering look, but he shrugs and tended to his guitar again._

_‘Owh Yuuriii, look at meeee,’_

_He snorts, ‘That quota’s full,’_

_The camera swerves to the side, shows them, mussed and eyes tired. Victor places it somewhere where it gives a full view of them on the bed. He beams and hugs Yuuri tightly from behind, nuzzling at Yuuri’s neck,_

_‘And how long do you do it per day hmm?’_

_Yuuri strums his guitar, and hums, ‘Don’t know,’ there’s a hint of red at his ears, ‘It’s not like your face doesn’t come in my mind every day,’ he immediately regrets it, judging by how he looks down and shuffles his feet a little to the side._

_‘Yuuri!’ Victor hugs him tighter and he jostles the bedsheets making Makkachin jump off the bed in surprise, letting out an irritated ‘Boof!’ as he trots out of the room. They laugh it off._

_Then, Yuuri guides Victors fingers to the strings of his guitar. Rambles about tuning and string pitches. They laugh and mock sing a few silly songs. Victor not more than once, tries to bite his ear, or squeeze his butt._

_It’s late morning, and hours later where Yuuri has his face tucked in Victors chest, guitar at his feet. Victor has his arms around him, staring at Yuuri’s toes._

_His voice is quiet and slow, like he was drifting off to sleep,_

_“Victor, do you know how love sounds like?”_

_There’s frost on their windows, it makes beautiful patterns against the glass._

_“Hmm?”_

_Sunlight pours down from it, lands on the bed. The whole view is reminiscent to a distant comforting dream, the edges are soft, the filter has clouds at the bottom._

_Yuuri hums, burrows closer to the warmth of skin and heart,_

_“Listen.”_

_‘Tic tic’ a clock at their bedside table._

_‘hmm mmh’ inhale and exhale._

_‘Victor and Yuuri’ always, just them._

_Then a sudden intake of breath, and a voice that wobbles,_

_“Yuuri, “_

_The video ends when Victor accidentally knocks the phone off and clicks end. The last sight is of him smashing his lips with a surprised and red faced Yuuri’s. It might be a smudge in the video, but if you look closer, there seemed to be tears prickling at Victors eyes.]_

_[Cancel/Delete]_

_[Cancel]_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-Detroit Surprise-_

‘ _Beautiful and sexy, beautiful and sexy,’_

Yuuri takes a deep breath, he pretends to look at the excited audience but his eyes strays to the night sky overhead. Cold sweat runs down his back. He grips his guitar, hands clammy. The extremely loud din coming from in front of him cheers his name, his breath shudders with trepidation.

There is a cold breath brushing the tips of his ears, its stinging like the scrape of teeth running down his neck. Victor is cold and freezing, clutching him from behind. He has his hands around Yuuri’s heart, his nails dig though the cloth and skin and claws it open to show what’s underneath.

His breath hitches as Victor drags and drags his fingers until he feels the sickeningly wet splash of blood falling from his heart. It’s red, no, black, and it flows throughout the stage, pools around everyone, drops to the audience.

Yuuri faces the screaming horde,

 And he sings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Alex Colville is a real artist, he's art is cool!  
> -I wanted Minami to be a voca-p because the community now seemed to have lessened a lot, listen to Hachi's 'Sand Planet' by Hatsune Miku, describes it well, its also where i got the chap name,  
> -unfortunately, i dont think there is any edible mochi dicks in japan, but there IS these cute penis mochi toys  
> -Mochitsuki takes place around the start of the new year, many japanese households will take part in it, pounding rice to make mochi.  
> \- Mochi, also called a rice cake, is pounded sweet rice that can be eaten in a sweet or savory dish.  
> -Mochitsuki is a combined effort of two or more people with one person pounding on a sticky mass of glutinous rice placed in a granite mortar (usu) with a wooden mallet (kine), while the other turns, folds, and wets the mochi. Pounding mochi is very timely and rhythmical.  
> -about the last video, i honestly got the dialogue from one of Terry Pratchett's books, and i love to hc that Yuuri always says 'I love you' indirectly.
> 
> The songs mentioned in this chap were:  
> -Gives You Hell by The All American Rejects  
> -Ride On by AC/DC which was about a man who regrets the bad things he did in the past resulting in a lot of broken hearts and him being alone  
> -New Rules and Blow Your Mind (Mwah) by Dua Lipa  
> -Life Itself by Glass Animals, the chorus was 'come back down to my knees, gotta get back, gotta get free, come back down to my knees, be like them, lean back and breathe' their whole album is fantastic,
> 
> I think thats about it, next chap would probably be Victor's POV, if you're reading this kudos and comments are highly appreciated !! ;)

**Author's Note:**

> This idea struck me when I was on shuffle and Lorde's 'The Louvre' and The All American Rejects's 'Gives You Hell' was repeated. and really wont Victor look real good as a maestro? yum, and yeah my eternal weakness is Yuuri+crop tops, sue me. 
> 
> Name of the bands that i had taken custody of are, ONE OK ROCK = ONE OK DANCE!, MAROON 5 = CRIMSON 5. There is hopefully going to be more rockbands coming soon, but what would the name of an all girl band be hmm? I'd love to hear any ideas from you guys!
> 
> Really not sure if this can be updated weekly, (probably not, am sorry :( ) oh and the song used is Neon Tree's 'Songs I can't listen to'! If you're reading this please leave kudos and comments, it fuels Matcha-san!
> 
> I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/crazydurians)! and check out my other [fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchaMochi/works) too! 
> 
> till den :)


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